


love is all that I fear

by magisterequitum



Series: radioactive [1]
Category: Psy-Changeling - Nalini Singh
Genre: F/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 21:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1279291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterequitum/pseuds/magisterequitum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Across from her on the aerie’s porch, Lucas frowns for a moment, no doubt at her tone. He lets it slide though, because maybe he realizes just dropping “I want you to work with the SnowDancer’s now as pack liaison” was a bit of a shock. At least she hopes. </p><p>He shrugs, a lazy roll of his shoulders. “Maybe not liaison entirely, but we are closer.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	love is all that I fear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [empressearwig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/empressearwig/gifts).



> Happiest of birthdays, my dearest Jess!
> 
> I tried out a few things for you, but settled on this because I thought you'd like this a lot. I tried to weave in little tidbits, so that while it's from Mercy's POV, we know things about Riley that come through. 
> 
> But this is basically set books 1-5, leading up to theirs. Moments of how we end up opening with book six.

“You want me to do what?” 

Mercy’s question is just shy of being incredulous, her eyebrows pinching together and forehead wrinkling. Her mouth thins out into a straight line. Fingernails drag against the grain of her jeans. 

Across from her on the aerie’s porch, Lucas frowns for a moment, no doubt at her tone. He lets it slide though, because maybe he realizes just dropping “I want you to work with the SnowDancer’s now as pack liaison” was a bit of a shock. At least she hopes. 

He shrugs, a lazy roll of his shoulders. “Maybe not liaison entirely, but we are closer.” 

“You want to be friends with them?” The wind ruffles the few pieces of hair that’s come undone from her pony-tail.

The muscles of her alpha’s face constrict. “Not really,” his voice hard. “But we are neighbors and they did work with us. It could be useful in the long run.” 

She knows the hard line they’ve taken at cementing themselves as belonging in this area, at being able to call this territory their own, done in blood and held in strength. This land is theirs, the city too, but even so there’s danger at two aggressive changeling packs coexisting side by side. Privileged information told in confidence between the two of them. There’s no one else in the area at the moment. Just Mercy guarding her leader, his new mate with Tammy for the day. 

It gives them the space to have this conversation. 

Not that she’d thought that’s what she’d been called over for this morning. A shocking surprise that makes her leopard bare its teeth, tail whipping in agitation at the thought of working with the wolf changelings. 

Mercy reaches for one of the cookies Sascha had left out. Salt registers sharp on her tongue, the cookie itself hard and breaking only with a harsh bite of her teeth. She winces as she swallows. “These aren’t very good.” 

Lucas laughs, that firm mouth relenting and giving way to a genuine and bright smile. One she’s not seen in a really long time. It makes her leopard happy to see her alpha this way, all due to Sascha’s influence. An influence that’s made their Pack stronger already. He swipes his own treat and eats it in two bites. “Psy aren’t good cooks.” 

He eats another without complaint, rocking his chair back on two legs. 

Brushing her loose hair out of her face, she asks, “So why me?” 

He grins, swallowing the cookie. “Because your attitude is just what I need.” 

Her leopard bristles inside at his joke. She gets enough ribbing on how her temper plays into the stereotype about the color of her hair. “I didn’t realize mating made you hilarious.”

The chair rocks back down on its front legs, his arm shooting out across the space and fingers tugging quick on a lock of hair. The movement pulls more strands from their binding. He’s back and leaning away before she can retaliate. 

Her weak growl only gets a smile full of white teeth. 

Then, Lucas sobers, forearm muscles bunching as he crosses his arms. “You think it could be anyone else other than you?”

That makes her blink, leopard tilting its head in concentration. It could only be a sentinel to approach on that level with something this delicate as trying to forge some dynamic with another changeling pack. She thinks of her fellow sentinels, but Lucas beats her to it. 

“You think Vaughn or Dorian would put up with them? Or Clay?” His green eyes are sharp as they focus in on her. “Nate’s got enough on him already. But you, you’re my rock.” 

Her leopard grins open mouthed, all teeth and tongue, at the compliment. 

He uncrosses his arms and waves a hand at the air. “You know how to hold firm, but you don’t piss everyone off. You control yourself.”

Mercy swipes her tongue over her lips. “Alright. Who am I talking with?”

 

 

 

When they’d first settled themselves in the area, they’d done extensive research on their wolf neighbors. While they’ve not interacted all that much prior to Brenna’s abduction, not outside of straight business transactions, they have enough to put together several files worth of good information. 

One file that now she has as she sits cross-legged on the floor of her cabin. She’d cleaned every room, avoiding the datapad’s contents. Now her home smells of lemon, no dirt or dust or old laundry to be seen. She’s been busy for the past several days, extra rotations built in to guard Lucas and Sascha and ensure no Psy retaliation would be coming. Even though it’s been months, they’re still on alert. Plus, Vaughn’s suspicious actions in Tahoe aren’t helping. 

It’s not like she’s heard anything from the wolves either. 

Mercy taps a finger, bringing forth materials she’s looked at before, albeit a long time ago. 

She doesn’t need the photo that’s attached. Despite the fact she’d not been at the forefront of the safe house when the SnowDancer alpha and his lieutenants had showed up , she’d had gotten a good enough glimpse of them. One female, one male, both with blank faces and tense muscles that revealed how on edge everyone had been. 

**Riley Kincaid** the file tells her, stamped across the top. 

A number of years older than her, top lieutenant, he’s her contact point. She remembers broad shoulders and a fierce face. But then it’d been his sister kidnapped and tortured, time running out, and she’s got siblings of her own. 

There’s not much they have beyond basics, and as such only forms a sketch outline. It makes her huff in annoyance, animal inside of her not keen on the lack of upper hand. 

Her small silver phone chimes from beside her on the floor. She glances down at the backlit screen, reading the short message. Her frown deepens and the annoyance prickles over her again. 

_Let’s talk. Over food.’_

A date and time comes in a second later, along with ‘Kincaid’ at the end. 

The leopard grumbles at his presumptuousness, the message an order. She grits her teeth and looks back to the datapad. 

 

 

 

Mercy agrees to the date and time, but she picks the place to eat. The diner is in the city, just a little ways outside the Chinatown area. She’d almost made him meet at Joe’s bar, but decided making him drive all the way into the city was enough punishment. Making him meet her in a place nearly all under the control of DarkRiver and frequented by the pack every day would have been too antagonistic. 

She’s not that much of a bitch, even if his ordered tone in his message had set her on edge. Besides, the point is to establish some form of positive contact. Something she can adhere to at least. 

What she gets is him beating her there, already in one of the plastic vinyl booths. Her leopard huffs in amusement, and she purses her lips at his punctuality as she walks across the tacky tiled floor. 

She slides into the opposite seat, resting her wrists on the table in both a lazy move but also forward. Two waters sit on top, meaning he’s been here long enough that a waiter stopped by. She can see why when she meets his gaze. 

There are leopards prettier and more handsome than Riley Kincaid, but he’s got a square jaw and dark eyes that match the dark brown hair that sticks slightly up over his forehead like he’s in between lengths. His face’s impassive, but those eyes glint as if he can pick up on her annoyance at him being here first. 

When he talks, it’s all gravel like and flat. “I didn’t order you anything. Didn’t want to presume.” 

Steepling her fingers together, Mercy narrows her eyes and shows him all her teeth. “How nice of you. Unlike your message.”

If at all possible, the wolf’s face turns stiffer. It’s his turn to stare pointedly, mouth turning down at the corners. “I’m a busy person.” 

She raises an eyebrow, leaning forward. She’s certain Lucas has paired her with someone as thickheaded as Clay or Vaughn. Too bad she knows exactly how to deal with changeling men. “I didn’t realize lieutenants were busier than sentinels.” 

He winces, face flinching. “I deserved that,” he concedes. “Sorry.”

She takes pleasure in the fact that the apology seems forced behind gritted teeth. Satisfied at the upper hand, she holds out her palm sideways in a gesture for shaking. “Accepted. Now, let’s try this. Mercy Smith.” 

His palm’s dry and calloused against hers. “Riley Kincaid.” 

“Good,” she nods. “This won’t work unless we absolutely acknowledge one another.” 

Kincaid cocks his head to the side and leans against the booth’s padded backing. “Everything gets cleared through Hawke. Blood bond or not, we’re not willing to concede anything point blank.” 

A given and exactly what Lucas had told her too. “Same for us.” 

“Then this will work out well.” 

She orders a burger and extra fries and eats every bite. 

 

 

 

“What the hell is wrong you all?” 

Mercy doesn’t try to temper the volume or harshness of her voice. It’s dark, the middle of the night, but under the glow of the vehicles’ front lights she can see the sheepish looks of the teenagers in front of her. They’re not full soldiers, but they’re kids that have responsibilities. 

Ones that should know better than to get into fights with the neighboring changelings. They’re all males and part of her wants to roll her eyes. 

“I got it from here,” she tells the sentry that was in the area. 

When she turns her face back to the others, she’s happy to see that what is no doubt a furious expression on her face gets several long swallows and flinches. The wolves and leopards are together, even though they’re partitioned off. It’s been several months since the blood bond between the two packs, and yet here she is. 

She can see cuts and scrapes on the skin, knows bruises will form after the blood is gone. 

The sound of another vehicle approaching registers to her ears. Tires over leaves and dirt. 

“We were just-” starts one of the leopards she recognizes as a friend of Kit’s. 

“He didn’t-“ A wolf with a busted lip and bright blue eyes butts in. 

“I don’t give a damn what you were doing or why,” she snaps, steel in her tone. 

“Hey,” that familiar voice barks from behind her, annoyance and anger hitting her back. A moment later and she can smell sweat and the scent of the forest. 

Turning, Mercy can see that Kincaid’s just as tired as she feels. She’s got circles under her eyes from the newest addition to their Pack, another Psy that needs protection as well; she’s not complaining, it’s her duty and she likes nothing more, but it still wears her out at times. His shirt’s wrinkled like hers, no doubt picked up off the floor in the haste to get out the door. Boots barely laced and untucked jeans hanging out of the cuffs. That unyielding face stony as he focuses his gaze on her. 

“What are _you_ doing?” He asks, dark eyes glaring at her. 

She blinks and shifts back. “Excuse me?” 

“Why are you yelling at my wolves?”

Her leopard rises to its feet, snapping its teeth and growling low. Where she’d stepped away a minute ago, now she steps forward. He’s unrelenting in front of her, a solid wall of broad shoulders and thick arms. “I just got here. I haven’t done anything. I was waiting for one of _you_.”

A furrow creases his brows. But he doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t say anything at all. 

The rest of the clearing comes back into focus for her, and she realizes then the situation. Now instead of rowdy adolescent males, it’s two high ranking soldiers standing toe to toe in opposition. Everything fucked up and what she’d not wanted to happen. 

“Forget it,” Mercy says under her breath, low so the boys’ ears don’t pick it up. “Take yours home. I’ll deal with mine.” 

She doesn’t give him a chance to respond.

 

 

 

There’s a clearing not all that far from her cabin where she practices her skills often. It’s kind of her spot, tucked away. A place where she can go through her forms or run through drills with her knives. The dirt underneath is packed down hard from her feet. 

It’s where she’s interrupted by Kincaid who eases out behind the trees with a grace he shouldn’t have with that stacked body. Aggravating too that she’d not heard him. She files that away to remember. 

She inhales air through her nose, her lungs aching. “What do you want?” 

The question comes out a bit rough, her tongue stuck to the dryness of her mouth. 

His arms raise up, palms outward in a gesture of compliance. Then he shrugs, the corners of his mouth pulling outward. “I was around.” 

She wipes the sweat from her forehead. “Around?” 

He stops several feet away from her, rolling his shoulders again. He jerks his chin. “Around. I needed a walk.” 

Something makes her animal curl up, tail tucked around her side. Leopards gossip as much as wolves, and she knows Sascha and Faith both have been to help Brenna up at the SnowDancer’s den. He’s not a leopard though and so no part of her wants to pry even if she’s maybe curious. 

“It’s been weeks since you’ve talked to me at all.” She turns to face him fully, crossing one arm over the other. “In fact, I remember you ignoring my messages.” 

“I’ve been busy.” 

She exhales noisily, rolling her neck so she’s looking up at the sky for a moment. “That line again.” She shakes her head. “You’re not any busier than me. Or you could at least say that. This won’t happen, this whole alliance thing, if we can’t even work together.”

Mercy’s always been good at being pretty blunt. Her abuela says she gets it from her, and no one else in the family ever disputed it. Her brothers tease her constantly over it. She knows it’s something that’s made her a valuable sentinel. 

Dominant changelings respect nerve and pushback and so she gets a dip of that dark haired head. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” 

She grins and licks her teeth. “That’s twice I’ve gotten you to apologize.” 

Kincaid growls, eyes flashing with his wolf. “Don’t count on it happening again.” 

They do what they should have done weeks ago, which is hammer out more solid rules for dealing with disputes between the two packs. It’s what they’re supposed to be doing, and it actually goes surprisingly easy. 

A week later she’s standing across from him next to Lucas as they talk about the attack on the DawnSky clan. 

 

 

 

Mercy wakes to a phone call from Clay asking if she can go deal with a nuisance at Wild. She wipes sleep from her eyes and asks why he’s wanting her to go. Her foggy brain picks up the name “Tally” from his lips, and she’s already swinging her legs over to the floor. 

“Fine, I’ve got it,” she mutters through a yawn. Figures that she’s nearly the only remaining single sentinel they all make her fill in now. The sweetness of it makes her lips curl.

It’s been a month since any sort of problem and she supposes that’d been long enough to someone.

She scrapes her hair up and cracks her knuckles, imagining busting heads of the younger pack members already. Her jacket covers the wrinkled tank top, sports bra sticking to her sleep warm skin. 

Jose’s club thumps with music, some new song that she’s heard on the radio, as she shuts the car’s door, a block down from the entrance. The bouncer lets her by without a word. It’s even louder inside, her eyes needing a few extra seconds to adjust to the darkness and flashes of light. Mouth pursed, she sees what the problem is. 

Instead of fighting, they’ve got dancing on their hands. Mixed intermingling pack dancing, leopards and wolves and hips moving together. 

“What are you doing here?” A low voice grunts in her ear, broad shoulders touching hers where he’s come up behind her. She can feel the heat of his body, knows the scent of him without turning around. 

“Clay couldn’t make it,” she answers Riley. His first name in her head because somewhere along the way between meeting after meeting and encounters, she’s slotted him over to first name basis. 

He grunts again. “Judd was too busy.” 

The thought of the Psy in this place made her want to laugh. She grins and turns her head so she can see him, pony tail sliding over her shoulder. “Busy with your sister?”

That gets her a growl and a flash of teeth, a noise that vibrates straight up her spine and makes her stomach clench. Her breath catches at her body’s reaction. It doesn’t help that the smallness of the club forces them to be close. 

She doesn’t like it, but part of her curls up and stretches all at the same time at his nearness. 

Her reaction doesn’t get anything from him, doesn’t notice it at all, and he just gives her a tight lipped look for her comment, and says, “Let’s get them out before we have a brawl, Kitty.” 

 

 

 

She’s sweaty and her hips move restlessly as she opens her eyes. It takes a moment for her to register the twisted bedsheets and her raised heartbeat. And then it’s the ache between her legs, the swollen bottom lip she’s bitten. 

It’s dark in her cabin but she doesn’t need the lights on to know what woke her. 

Doesn’t need anything because she can smell herself in the air, knows if she reaches down she’d find her panties damp. 

Mercy arches her shoulders, head dropping back against the skewed pillow, eyes drooping. 

As soon as she does parts of the dream come back to her. Rough fingers that clutched her hips so hard she would’ve had bruises if it was real. A mouth that sucked at her pulse and bit her skin. Her own hands had been busy tracing warm muscles of his back as he’d fucked her hard and good. 

Her cunt clenches at the phantom remembrance of the dream. She moves her hand without thinking, tracing over her stomach and sliding under the band of cotton. Tugs a bit on the wiry red hair that covers her, nails scratching lightly. 

It takes more than just one finger inside her.

His would be thicker. She knows; she’s looked at them, thought of them on her even if she doesn’t want to say it aloud. 

She remembers then that in the dream he’d been pulling on her hair, the red strands wrapped around his wrist, and so she reaches up with her free one to tug sharply on the ends. 

It’s not him, but it’s enough to make her cry out, her thumb rolling her clit hard.

If Mercy closes her eyes, she can bring forth the image of those dark brown eyes and tight jaw. She wonders if she could get him to open up in bed, or if he’d be just as walled off here too. It’s okay to imagine here in the dark. 

She comes with her hips twisting off the bed, the slick sounds of her fucking herself and her harsh pants in her ears. 

 

 

 

Dorian’s been her friend forever, but it’s still mortifying when he brings up her sex life. Or lack of any sex. Her hand and toys can only do so much.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again after they’ve subdued Amara. 

She rubs his cheek with her knuckles, mindful that he’s got Ashaya to take care of him now too. Her leopard prowls under her skin, dissatisfied and annoyed. She needs a tumble from someone, but there’s only one person she keeps thinking of. 

Someone decidedly off limits. 

“I’m fine. Go take care of Ashaya.” 

 

 

 

When they’ve cleared the invaders from the forest and Ashaya is safe, Mercy calls Riley’s now familiar number. 

“Is something wrong?” he asks after the third ring. Her leopard pricks its ears at the sound of his voice. 

“No,” she says quickly. “I just wanted to say thanks again.” 

A pause and she can hear voices muted in the background, the sounds of outside filtering in. “For what?”

“Not to you,” Mercy corrects. “To Tai and the others. I know they weren’t supposed to be sneaking around, and I know they killed, but we appreciate it. Dorian does. Lucas does too.” 

Another long moment, but then he’s exhaling, and saying, “I’ll tell the boys. And Hawke.”

“Good. That was it.”

“See you around then, Kitty.” She can’t see his face, but there’s something in his tone at the nickname that she’d maybe label as teasing. 

It only prickles her skin and makes her itch even more.

 

 

 

Riley’s firm and heavy as he pins her to the forest floor, and while part of her bucks against him and gives just as much back, unyielding as ever, there’s an even smaller part of her that whispers:

_finally_


End file.
